The Perils of Cultural InSensitivity
by exiled mind
Summary: Gaila might have poisoned her professor and object of her affections. Uhura wonders how this is her life. A ficlet from Bridge2sickbay drabble community.  See notes.


Content Advisory: Accidental substance use, cracky sort of scenario  
Prompt: Gaila - Brownies

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**The Perils of Cultural (In)Sensitivity**

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When Uhura rose from her desk to answer the irritating thumping at her door, she'd planned on giving the being on the other side a considerable lecture about consideration and a reminder of the Academy's policy regarding quiet hours prior to finals.

She did not anticipate finding her roommate, Gaila, teetering under the weight of one Commander Spock, Starfleet Academy Professor and resident half-Vulcan, who was half draped across her side and shoulders and half propped against the doorjamb.

″What in the Gray Skies...″

″I didn't know, I swear!″ Gaila's bright eyes were worried and regretful. ″Help me get him inside.″

Uhura rolled her eyes before pulling Spock away from the doorjamb and tucking herself under his shoulder. Between herself and Gaila they managed to drag the mostly-unconscious Commander over to Uhura's bed to half-fall onto its surface.

Spock groaned and clenched his eyes tightly shut, the most reaction they'd gotten from him yet.

″Gaila, what did you _do?_″

Gaila turned to Uhura, eyes wide and scared. ″I think I poisoned him!″

″Gaila!″

″I didn't mean to!″ Gaila's answer was at least half wail and Spock winced visibly.

″Keep your voice down!″ Uhura whispered furiously as she crossed the room and manually lowered the lights to forty percent brightness. ″Tell me everything that happened. What were you even doing with him?″

″It's not like that, Nyota. He's nice looking and all, but entirely not my type.″ Trust Gaila to focus in on the important parts of the discussion.

Spock groaned softly again.

They both turned to look at the now-still form lying across Uhura's bed with one arm thrown across his eyes, booted feet dangling off the end of the mattress.

″Gaila? Talk.″

″Okay, okay.″ Gaila ran her hand through her hair, further mussing her already artfully tumbled curls, a 'casual' look Uhura knew for a fact that she'd perfected only after hours of trials. ″I was with my warp theory study group in the lounge. I was just trying to be nice and include him when I offered him the brownie. I've been practicing new recipes in the communal kitchen and I thought this one would be a winner so I brought it as fuel for the group.″

″What was he even doing there?″

″He was looking for you, actually. At least I think that's what he said before he started to slur and everything.″

″Oh, Gaila.″ Uhura dropped her head into her hand with a moan.

″I'm _sorry!_″ Gaila did look truly contrite. ″Did I kill him? Should I call Starfleet Med for a transport?″

″You just gave him a brownie and he ate it and then this happened.″

″Yes.″ Gaila bit her bottom lip before continuing. ″I might have told him that it would be culturally insensitive to turn down the offering, but I was only joking, honest!″

″Gaila! He's a Vulcan for crying out loud! Didn't it occur to you that perhaps he wouldn't recognize the subtleties of your humor?″

″I- I-″ A tear slipped out of Gaila's eye and began to trail down her cheek.

Uhura sighed and shook her head. ″You haven't killed him, and if he only ate one brownie I don't think he'll need Medical, either.″

″What's wrong with him then?″

″Chocolate has an... intoxicating effect on Vulcans. The Commander is apparently very... sensitive to the effects.″ Uhura refused to use the word 'lightweight' to describe him. He'd clearly already suffered enough.

Gaila's eyes widened. ″He's _drunk?_″ Gaila's voice held a mixture of horror and hilarity. She slapped one hand across her mouth at Uhura's glare.

″Nice going, Gaila. Now we get to watch him sleep it off and then deal with his hangover when he wakes up.″

″Well, he's Vulcan, so his metabolism is bound to be pretty fast, right? He should snap out of it soon. He only had one piece, after all.″ Gaila held up her hands to indicate the size of the brownie.

″Gaila, did you attend _any_ of the xenobio lectures?″

″Hey, you know I did! And I even took notes on all the lectures in the reproduction section,″ Gaila responded, hurt. ″Though they didn't have the focus I'd anticipated...″

Uhura sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples. ″Go fill up a few water bottles and bring them back here with some bland, vegetarian food, please. We'll want to help him flush his system as soon as possible after he wakes up.″

″Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can.″

″Don't get distracted!″

″Nyota! Who do you take me for?″

Uhura merely raised an eyebrow and shot a significant glance over to the figure on her bed.

″Right. Going now.″

As the door swished shut behind her roommate, Uhura turned once again to survey Spock's form, her eyes traveling from the top of his head down to the toes of his boots.

″This is definitely _not_ how I'd envisioned getting you into my bed,″ she whispered.

″I, too, did not anticipate this particular scenario in my estimations.″ The voice was gravelly and soft, but not slurred.

Uhura's eyes shot up and her gaze locked on Spock's.

″Good evening, Lieutenant.″

Either Spock was still inebriated or Uhura was hallucinating, because she'd swear on her favorite earrings that she saw a ghost of a smile cross Spock's lips, and a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes.


End file.
